STORIES OF SCHOOL LIFE.

An old college man recalls two characteristic anecdotes about a well-known Harvard professor, Sophocles, or “Sophy,” as he was generally called.  He was an excellent teacher, but he had his favorites, whom he would never allow to fail in recitation.  One day the question under discussion was the dark color of the water of a certain river.  “Why was the water dark?” said Sophocles.  One pupil ventured, “Because it was so deep.”  “That is not right.  The next.”  “Because of the color of the mud;” and so on, until he came to a favorite, when the question took this form:  “The reason is not known why the water was black, is it?” “No, sir!” came the natural answer.  “That is correct,” from Sophocles, with one of his blandest smiles.  Another day a student was playing chess in recitation-time, feeling certain that his name would not be called, as the professor had a fixed habit of calling up the students in regular order, and this student was at the tail of the class.  But Sophocles saw what was going on, out of the corner of his eye, and said, suddenly, “Mr. Kew, what do you say to this question?” Mr. Kew at once arose and promptly replied, “It is imperfect, because it is in the indefinite tense,” an answer which, in nine cases in ten, would have been correct.  “Not at all, sir,” said Professor Sophocles, calmly, “it is an island in the Aegean Sea!”

Professor Vierecke (four cornered) was connected with a celebrated German university in a walled town, during war times.  He was very severe in his teaching methods, and the students determined to get even with him.  So three of them went outside the town one day, when they knew he had gone into the country, and disguised themselves with white wigs and spectacles so as to look exactly like him.  Toward night they started to return, about half an hour apart.  At the gate of the town every one had to give his name to the sentinel stationed there.  The first student to arrive gave his name as Einecke (one cornered); the second, half an hour afterward, as Zweiecke (two cornered); the third as Dreicke (three cornered).  By this time the sentinel began to be very suspicious over the fact that these elderly men, looking exactly alike, but with names increasing in numerical value, should have passed into the city.  There must, he thought, be some plot hatching, and just as he had resolved to report the affair to his superior officer a fourth old man, with white hair and spectacles, came up to the gate.  “Your name, sir?” asked the sentinel.  “Vierecke.”  “Ha!” cried the sentinel.  “I arrest you as a spy!” The professor vainly protested, told where he lived and his occupation, but the circumstances were so suspicious that he was taken to prison, where he was kept all night and part of the next day, to the intense delight of the persecuted students.

A little six-years-old boy, just learning to spell words of three or four letters, was poring over a book at home, which contained words much beyond his capacity.  After trying in vain to make them out, he looked up and said, “Mamma, if I had glasses, I think I could read all these words.”  His mother laughed and responded, “Only old folks use glasses.”  The little fellow’s face became very serious, and then he asked, anxiously, “Why, mamma, do you think I’m too new?”